She drags me out to all these things." His eyes twinkled at Maitland.

"I can't find time for any study." "Hoots ye and ye're study.

A doot a rale heartening scramble on the ice wad dae ye mair guid than an oor wi' yon godless Jew buddie." "She means Marx, of course," said McNish, in answer to Maitland's look of perplexity.

"She has no use for him." "But the tickets, Malcolm," insisted his mother.
"Well, mither, A'll confess I clean forgot them.

Ye see," he hurried to say, "A was that fashed over yon Committee maitter--" "Committee maitter!" exclaimed the old lady indignantly.